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I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even stupidly happy almost without cause and left alone I am mostly content.

Charles Bukowski

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Charles Bukowski
Age: 73 †
Born: 1920
Born: August 16
Died: 1994
Died: March 9
Actor
Author
Autobiographer
Columnist
Diarist
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Left
Mostly
Without
Content
Even
Easily
Made
Cause
Men
Causes
Alone
Almost
Dolt
Happy
Stupidly

More quotes by Charles Bukowski

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the masses are everywhere they know how to do things: they have sane and deadly angers for sane and deadly things.
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some men never die and some men never live but we're all alive tonight.
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my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.
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and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.
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Getting drunk was good. I decided that I would always like getting drunk. It took away the obvious and maybe if you could get away from the obvious often enough, you wouldn't become so obvious yourself.
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It’s not so much that nothing means anything but more that it keeps meaning nothing. there’s no release, just gurus and self- appointed gods and hucksters. the more people say, the less there is to say. even the best books are dry sawdust.
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The apartment was built at the edge of a high cliff so that when you looked out the back window it seemed as if you were twelve floors up instead of four. It was very much like living on the edge of the world - a last resting place before the final big drop.
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I had no feeling for the things so many others needed.
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places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you notice that?
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Food is good for the nerves and the spirit. Courage comes from the belly – all else is desperation.
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It was like any other relationship, there was jealousy on both sides, there were split-ups and reconciliations. There were also fragmented moments of great peace and beauty. I often tried to get away from her and she tried to get away from me but it was difficult: Cupid, in his strange way, was really there.
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I am too sick to lay down the sidewalks frighten me the whole damned city frightens me, what I will become what I have become frightens me.
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Pain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire.... Pain arrives, BANG, and there it is, it sits on you. It's real. And to anybody watching, you look foolish. Like you've suddenly become an idiot. There's no cure for it unless you know somebody who understands how you feel, and knows how to help.
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We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
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Modern women ... they don't sew your pockets ... forget that.
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I tell you such fine music waits in the shadows of hell.
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I often carry things to read so that I will not have to look at the people.
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morning night and noon the traffic moves through and the murder and treachery of friends and lovers and all the people move through you. pain is the joy of knowing the unkindest truth that arrives without warning. life is being alone death is being alone. even the fools weep morning night and noon.
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My flesh looked like it wasn't trying. It looked like it hated being part of me.
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That's how it is with books, isn't it: They're not in a hurry. They'll wait for you till you're ready. People empty me. I have to go away to refill.
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